


The Gifts of the Mage

by KestrelShrike



Series: Anthesis-Side Stories [6]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gift Exchange, Gifts, Holiday, Jewelry, Satinalia, Wisdom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-27
Updated: 2015-04-27
Packaged: 2018-03-25 23:51:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3829498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KestrelShrike/pseuds/KestrelShrike
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anonymous prompt: Solas and Lavellan exchanging gifts at Satinalia. It’s disgustingly cute. Thanks so much arybobary for brain storming gift ideas from Maiwe to Solas. </p>
<p>... The name title is really not as clever as I think it is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Gifts of the Mage

From an outsider’s perspective, Satinalia was a very strange holiday. The celebration had gone on for several days now, and apparently it would culminate in a feast that night. Everyone wore masks, though they were not as gilded as what the Orlesians were. More than half were made of wood, made to look like stylized animals. Fearsome mabaris snarled, while others were gentle halla, their own eyes peering out through two upturned, broad eye holes. The very ambitious adorned themselves like dragons, painted scales glimmering in the candlelight. Maiwe herself wore something simple, made of leather and painted silver with dark grey leaves on it. It was so Dalish that it made her laugh. For all that she was separated from her people, she could not dispute their undeniable influence on her. 

The feast itself ended up being decadent beyond measure. It would have felt like a tremendous waste of food, but everyone in Skyhold was invited, and judging by how packed the long tables were, everyone had come. Cooks sat next to courtiers, merchants next to minor nobility. They broke bread together, passing plates peacefully and laughing at ribald jokes. They even joked with her, called her ‘Maiwe’ instead of ‘Inquisitor.’ The merriment lasted until late in the evening, when Maiwe found her eyes closing more often than not, and politely excused herself. She had one more thing yet to do. 

Up the long flight of stairs to her room, cozily lit by a fire, curtains drawn closed. Solas was already waiting for her, having left a few minutes before Maiwe could break away. So many eyes had seen where he had gone, but they both found themselves not caring. This was an evening of celebration. Two glasses of wine swirled in her head, made her body feel loose and pain free. If only she could feel this weightless forever. For now, she clung to it, smiled broadly to see Solas dressed up for the evening, his mask lying discarded beside him. It was a fox, which seemed fitting enough. 

Maiwe pulled off her own, carefully setting it on her desk, next to a carafe of mulled wine that Solas had thoughtfully provided. “I’m not sure if I should have anymore,” but even as she spoke, Maiwe poured two glasses, handing one to him. His fingers lingered on hers as she handed him the cup and warmth rose in her cheeks, burning so much hotter than normal. 

“I’ll go first.” She turned to hide her red face, pulling her gift from a desk drawer. It looked small, wrapped in plain brown paper. Cole had wanted to draw flowers on it, but she hadn’t let him. Wordlessly, Maiwe handed the present to Solas. 

“Your wrapping skills rival that of any child here.” He laughed, and after a moment Maiwe did as well. Somewhere along the line, she had lost the patience for folding the paper precisely, and after three sheets had been thrown out, she had done it hastily, sloppily. It was what was inside that counted, was it not? A very important life lesson. 

Solas took the wrapping off deftly, holding a small box in his hand. Blackwall had been kind enough to carve something out of wood. It was the work of less than an hour for him, but the presentation was improved immensely.   
Opening the lid, Solas removed his gift, holding it in the palm of his hand. It was a ring, perhaps a little outsized for his slender fingers. The silver on it was beaten and worn, tarnished despite Maiwe’s attempting at polishing. The metal was not the point. The stone was. It almost seemed alive, the same color as the Mark on Maiwe’s hand, the same color as the Fade had been. The green moved in small clouds, never taking the same shape. 

“I think it’s a fragment of the Fade. I checked with other mages to make sure it was safe.” She was suddenly so anxious, worried that he would not like it, or that it would be something that would hurt him. 

“Vhenan…” Voice low and breathy, Solas paused for a moment. “This isn’t a fragment of the Fade. This is a remnant of Wisdom.” He could feel it emanating from inside the stone. The sensation was much muted but it was so familiar to him. For a moment, he held the ring against his cheek, remembering his dearest friend. It had not been long ago that he had put her to rest with Maiwe’s help; it had only been enough time so that the pain did not feel as sharp. With this in his hand, he felt less like he had lost her forever. In a way far more tangible than he had imagined, Wisdom remained with him. He leaned forward and let his lips brush hers gently, the softest touch before he pulled back and revealed his own gift. It did not appear to be much larger, but the wrapping was meticulous. 

Maiwe felt almost bad ripping the paper but she was too eager to see what he had gotten her. Much to her surprise, there was another Blackwall box. She laughed. “I see we thought along similar minds. I wonder how he held the secret so well?” 

The lid opened beautifully, moving back on silent, oiled hinges. Inside, resting on a bed of hay, was a necklace. She lifted it out and simply stared for a long moment, her eyes moving between her gift and Solas’ chest. 

Where Solas wore the bottom jaw of some predatory animal, she now held the top. The skull was canine, though Maiwe didn’t know enough to say what it was. It could have been a fennec or a red fox, or perhaps even a small wolf. It did not matter. It mattered only that when she held it up to Solas’ own, the jaws hinged together perfectly. She put it over her head immediately. There were tears in her eyes; she blamed the wine entirely for emotionally compromising her. 

“You carry my heart with you,” Solas said. 

“And mine with yours,” she returned. “Together, we are whole.” 

“Yes,” he smiled softly at her and they did not need further words.


End file.
